


Late-Night Repairs

by icameheretowinry



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icameheretowinry/pseuds/icameheretowinry
Summary: Yet another one-shot based on a dialogue prompt I received on Tumblr. Lan Fan unsuccessfully attempts to repair her automail one night, and Ling drops in to help. I hope you enjoy!





	Late-Night Repairs

A soft hiss escaped Lan Fan’s lips as she tightened a particularly sensitive screw. As the burning blurriness faded from the edges of her vision, she placed her grease-stained wrench on the wooden table beside her. 

‘It never hurt this much when she did it,’ Lan Fan thought bitterly. 

True, the blond Amestrian mechanic had taught her as much as she could about automail maintenance, yet, despite following every instruction perfectly, as the Xingese girl was known to do, a stiffness lingered deep in her artificial limb. As the candle beside her burned dangerously close to its end, Lan Fan grasped the wrench with renewed enthusiasm. 

‘One more try can’t hurt,’ she reasoned. 

Before she could react, a scream escaped Lan Fan’s lips as white-hot fire radiated through her automail. In the moment, it as nearly worse than the pain of losing her arm in the first place. She clapped her flesh hand over mouth to stifle it as tears blurred her vision. 

“Lan Fan?!” 

She twisted quickly towards the source of the frantic whisper. The dying candlelight washed timidly over a raven-haired young man in the doorway of her small workshop. Even in the semi-darkness, she noticed the concern etched deeply on his face. 

“My... my lord,” Lan Fan whispered as she chased the tears with the heel of hand. 

The Xingese prince slowly entered the small room as she twisted her metallic arm in stiff rotations. 

“Are you alright?” 

Lan Fan bowed her head as she felt a strange heat blossom on her cheeks. 

“Yes, my lord,” she replied evenly, her eyes fixated on the rough wooden floor, “I apologize for waking you.” 

Suddenly, the tiny workshop was filled the scraping of wood on wood as the young prince pulled a low stool from the corner and took ahold of her automail in his hands. Her ebony eyes grew wide as he turned the artificial appendage over. The dying candlelight glittered like fallen stars across the metallic surface. 

“L-Ling?” 

“Is it still stiff?” he asked, not seeming to notice her break in formality. 

“Y-yes,” she replied hesitantly, “I tried to make some adjustments, but my tinkering seemed to make it worse.” 

The Xingese girl winced as Ling’s curious exploration of her arm moved her sensitive shoulder joint. 

“I think I see the problem!” he said suddenly. 

“You what?” asked Lan Fan, “How do you know anything about automail?”

“Well,” he explained as he reached for the greasy wrench abandoned on the table beside them, “I had Winry teach me a few things before we left.” 

“But why?” the weight of her confusion drawing her lips into a frown, “You knew she was teaching me everything I needed to know so could maintain my arm on my own.” 

“It was just in case,” he continued hesitantly as he drew the nearly finished candle closer, sending waves of dulling golden light crashing over them. 

“Just in case what?” demanded Lan Fan bitterly, “That I was incapable of doing it myself?”

She pulled her automail arm roughly out of his grasp. Ling frowned as he watched the action contort his bodyguard’s expression. Lan Fan hung her head, and the young prince nearly dropped the wrench still grasped in his right hand when he realized she was crying. 

“Does this...” she gestured to her artificial limb, her tears sparkling in the burning darkness as they slipped down her cheeks, “Does this disability cause you to lose faith in me?”

Ling shook his head as his expression melted into a soft smile. Lan Fan didn’t resist as he pulled his arm towards her. 

“The reason,” he explained as he turned the automail gently towards the dying light, “was not because I don’t have faith in you.”

Lan Fan’s gaze grew riveted to the prince’s free hand as it danced through the array of tools in the rusty box on the table, a parting gift from Winry. 

“First,” he continued with a small smirk as he freed an impossibly small wrench from the depths of the toolbox, “is because I know you’re too stubborn to ask for help, and you would walk around in pain without saying anything.”

The Xingese girl quickly shifted her glance away from his own. 

“But most importantly...”

Lan Fan felt the small wrench latch onto a screw near her elbow she didn’t even know existed. With a small twist, the stiffness in her shoulder disappeared. Ling smiled as he watched the relief wash over her face. 

“Anytime I can help you,” he said, “I am thanking you for everything you’ve done.”

“M-my lord!” she sputtered, “I-I don’t know what to say... I mean, of course! It is my duty to protect you, and there’s no need to thank me! It’s just--”

Ling cut off her off with a laugh, “Just accept it, Lan Fan!”

Lan Fan bit her lip and prayed the prince couldn’t see her blushing. The light beside them was nearly extinguished. 

“Well” began Ling, his dark eyes seeming to bore into her soul, “I think we’d both be fools if we don’t admit it’s no longer about duty, Lan Fan.”

With a soft hiss, the candlelight finally gave way to the night. She felt his hand on her own, skin to skin, in the darkness. 

“You love me, right?” 

She laced her fingers through those of the prince and that impossibly small wrench fell into obscurity with a soft twinkle as it hit the floor.


End file.
